


Better than Dreams

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Injury, Klance Week 2017, Klangst Week 2017, M/M, Major Character Injury, March 27
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 01:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: March 27- InjuryLance hurts himself, but he was hurting before anyway, and it takes Hunk, Keith, and Pidge to set him straight. (In hindsight, maybe straight's ((definitely)) not the right word for him. Set him forward?)





	

**Author's Note:**

> A short one made for Klangst Week. March 27- Injury. Took a while because my life is kind of batshit at the moment but I actually like how it turned out; will maybe edit later

They're laughing because they're idiots. They're laughing and dodging pure destructible force shooting from alien technology. Because they're idiots.

Keith firmly believes Lance is some sort of infection. How else did he transfer his complete  _stupidity_ and terrible sense of humor to Keith?

(Keith thinks he knows how.)

(The thought almost makes him sick.)

(Maybe this is more proof that Lance is an infection.)

(He wonders if Lance would laugh if he told him that.)

(He definitely can't tell Lance that.)

"Kind of looks like Iverson," Lance notices, and Keith sees the upturned frown of the robot, the pointed look, dead holes for eyes, and laughs again, louder, brighter, easily dodging another ship and ripping it to shreds with steel claws. Keith can hear the smug grin in Lance's words after hearing his joke land, and something flushes in Keith's chest. "Dipped in metal."

"Thanks for the incentive," Keith lunges at the robot and connects, sparks scraping along its skull. Lance whoops, and Keith can't even think when he does that, can't do anything but laugh and smile and laugh-

And then something like a shock rips a hole in Keith's chest, and he thinks he's going down, when he sees a flash of blue fall instead.

Keith's not laughing anymore.

•••

Dying is boring.

Lance doesn't want to feel, but he doesn't want to not feel, so he lays there, bleeding out, waiting for something outside his own power to save him. If he drags himself out, he dies. If he does nothing, he dies. After struggling with panic for a minute, Lance gives in, knowing there's not much else he can do with a block of equipment lodged into his stomach and feet. And he decides to spend his last thoughts on happy ones.

Whenever Lance is bored, he always goes to the same place.

Smiling. Laughing. Picnic in a park, sunlight streaming through springtime trees in bright parks with greens beyond imagination. Someone's head in his lap. His hands in their hair.

It varied when he was younger. Valencia from next door. The first boy to come out in his town. Allura herself even appeared for a second or two. 

But for the past few months, whenever he looks down at his dream-hands holding dream-hair, he's held the same mullet. Watched the same eyes crinkle. Violet. Unnatural. Laughing like a run up the stairs.

Dream-Keith is a little bolder than Real-Keith. They always get to making out pretty quick-

Lance closes his eyes and tries to hold on. If he makes it out of here, he'll have to thank Real-Keith for literally keeping him from dying of boredom.

And if he doesn't...

He speaks to the coms, just in case they're on. "In pretty bad shape. I love you guys. And thanks Real-Keith. Just for. The thoughts and the laughs and the picnic. It's. I'm happy."

And then he widens his eyes and tries to grip on to dream lips and bright greens as firmly as he can.

•••

Keith hates him so much. He hates him so, so much.

He's got Blue, but something's cracked; something's gone wrong- she's not working anymore, something's pierced through-

"I'm happy," Lance had said. What a fucking selfish prick. Like he'd given up. Like he could leave them behind.

Fuck.

Keith is panicking, and this is the one moment he  _can't panic _ -

Red seems to know, almost moving for him. He shoots out of the battlefield, leaves the Iverson robot, and heads for the void.

•••

Lance realizes he's not dead before his brain realizes it can still function.

He knows this because a thrum surrounds him. He feels.

Pain.

Massive, drowning, submerging pain.

•••

Keith won't be there when Lance wakes. He's decided.

And Lance will wake up. The cyropod has been feeding positive numbers. Just a few days now. If they're lucky, tomorrow.

But Keith is not going to be there.

Because he's so fucking mad that he's crying himself to sleep every night, and this sure as hell isn't the first time it's happened, and it sure as hell is going to be the fucking last if Keith can fucking help it, because Lance has to realize his actions affect every single person on this ship and that  _ everyone _  will hurt if he dies.  _ Everyone. _

No more idiocy.

•••

Lance wakes up and sees five familiar faces and smiles, groggy, before promptly passing out again. The next time he wakes up, someone has tucked him into his bed and applied his face mask for him.

He tries to sniff the sheets, but nothing gives.

He hopes his assumption is correct.

•••

The next time Lance graces them with his presence, Keith's there. He startles when Lance walks into the room, nods stiffly as the guy sits down, and calmly passes him some goo. Lance cautiously watches, brightening at the gesture, and Keith wants to kill him for it.

He refuses to speak about it now. They all laugh and converse and whisper and plan around the table, and Keith can't stop the swirling thoughts in his head; can't stop everything he wants to send straight to Lance's heart; all the lessons Lance needs to hear.

He promptly ignores the guy, and he can feel Lance react. Badly. He closes his eyes, and tries to breathe normally.

Today is going to be a long day.

•••

"Hey," Lance says, and Keith closes his eyes and breathes. He lets himself be cornered, straightening and turning around with folded arms and an unimpressed look. His chest tries not to cave to the look Lance is giving him. "So. Um. I was just wondering. If you wanted to train? Or actually-"

Keith watches Lance's mouth malfunction, opening and closing like a spring at its hinges. It's fascinating to watch. Keith likes seeing a loss of words on Lance the same way a designer appreciates a model wear their work. "I just-" Lance finally settles on. "Feel like you're mad at me."

Keith bites the inside of his lip for two seconds before answering.

One.

Two.

"I am. I don't like what you did in battle."

That sentence wasn't Keith's top choice, but he's nervous. He's practiced this speech to Lance multiple times, rewriting and fantasizing while his best friend slept in a cyropod, and now that's it's finally happening, his brain is moving too fast.

Lance swallows, eyes wide. "You mean. The- uh? Me telling that stuff to you in the end? I'm sorry; I can't really remember what I said, but if it made you uncomfortable-"

"No, idiot," Keith says, shaking away the day of hazy voices and shitty goodbyes in his mind. "I mean us goofing off in battle. I don't like what we did. I don't like you giving up on us when it gets tough, and I don't like us giggling while we're being shot at by lasers. We're going to get hurt. No- you  did  get hurt. We're not doing that again."

"I," Lance says. "Uh. Shit. I didn't know we were, uh, goofing off-"

"Well, we were. And then you got hurt. So." Keith has more to say, but it sticks to the front of his mouth like sand.

"I'll try not to."

"No," Keith sets his jaw and finally meets Lance's eyes, blazing. He sees confusion, haziness, and Keith clarifies, clearing his throat. "More than try ."

"I-!" Lance looks ready to argue but then- like he's trying to move a lump- swallows three times, rapidly. Keith tracks the movement and hates himself. "I... Won't."

Keith checks Lance's eyes and likes what he sees: downcast but sincere. Keith lets the silence swell for one second. Two. Finally, he stiffly says, "Thank you" and turns away. He looks to the floor. "I... Missed you. While you were in the cyropod."

And then he goes, clenching his nails into his palm, going over all the things he didn't get to say.

•••

Lance pouts. And pouts.

And pouts.

Hunk is getting more than a little sick of it; Lance can tell. But Keith's not around to pout to, and Keith's the source of his pouting, so he can't help it. Someone has to deal.

"This isn't cute, Lance," Pidge calls, and he startles, forgetting they were there. They jab at their computer forcefully and refuse to look up. Hunk looks relieved at the outburst, also looking like he's about to add something, and then somehow contains himself.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Lance shoots stupidly back, immediately regretting it. Because Pidge _does_ know what they're talking, and Pidge will reveal what they know if they are goaded to, and Lance doesn't feel like getting roasted when he wants to be complaining. Lance quickly cuts himself off and turns to Hunk before Pidge can open their mouth. "I just don't get what I did  _wrong_. What did I   _do_ _?_ "

"Almost killing yourself is a kind of shitty thing to do to your friends," Hunk bites the inside of his cheek and avoids eye contact. The force of the words hits Lance hard, and he immediately feels humiliation and shame, for some reason. He shouldn't. Dying's a part of his job. Even though, yeah, he didn't want to make his friends _hurt_.

"But if it's the best thing for the team, and that was the only way I could've helped-" Lance starts to argue, and Pidge snaps.

"Fuck  _off_ , Lance. It's not the best way to help. The best way to help is to be alive. You were being careless that day, and it sucked, because Keith was worried and I was worried and Hunk and Shiro and Allura and Coran and even fucking Slav and you can't get your head out of your victimizing ass to see it. Be smarter and better. You're not the seventh wheel on this team, and-"

" _ Pidge _ ," Hunk warns, sharply, because Lance has suddenly gone stock-still frozen, and can't breathe. Pidge finally manages to look up and inhales roughly, tapering off at the sight of Lance's heavy stance.

"Lance," Hunk says, softer, and Lance can't trust himself to move. "You're not the seventh wheel. We all love you. We can't fight without you. But when you feel like you're the seventh wheel, you start becoming it. You get worse. Your insecurities get in the way. Don't let them. You're your best when you're genuinely confident in yourself, and not trying to... Cover. For something."

"For  what ?" Lance's voice cracks. He clears it, and Hunk brings up an arm to pull Lance down and cuddle him to his chest.

"For your masculinity. Or your fear. Or whatever. I do it, too. And Keith, in his own way. We all get insecure. But we have to rise above it in order to stay alive."

Lance breathes shakily out and tries not to cry. He buries his head into Hunk's chest and lays there, counting his breaths and feeling Hunk's heartbeat, until he falls asleep.

•••

When he wakes again, he's moving mid-air. He flails into a lap- a little bonier and less massively surrounding.

He can hear Hunk's rumbling laugh and feels the legs behind his cheekbones tense up. He manages to flop over and open his eyes.

Keith.

Keith.

Lance can feel himself smile more brightly. Keith smiles shakily back, and Lance manages to turn himself over, hugging Keith's inner thigh.

He closes his eyes and feels hands tentatively work through his hair, awkward and uncertain.

_Loving_ .

He thinks of Pidge and Hunk, and Coran and Allura and Shiro and Slav, and Keith. And Keith.

He tucks his face even further squished into Keith's thigh and can feel the guy restrain a kick. A sense of deja vu settles in, and he feels his heart leap into his throat. It's not exactly his happy place, but it's pretty damn close. And probably better. 

(Definitely better.)

(Because it's real.)

(And because Keith's fingernails are scratching right where they need to.)

( _Loving_.)

He smiles and suffocates a sob of overwhelming love and pride.

"Idiots," he hears someone (Hunk? Pidge?) say fondly, just before he settles into dreams.


End file.
